


Doubts!Remix: Mistletoe

by Megara Bee (Megara_Bee)



Series: Doubts Universe [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Pseudo-Incest, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megara_Bee/pseuds/Megara%20Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Multiple people prompted: Doubts!Remix, Belle teases Gold with mistletoe around the holidays, looking for a not-so-fatherly kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doubts!Remix: Mistletoe

Belle grinned when she heard the front door open. “I’m in here, Papa!” she called, tying off the twine.

She heard his footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen. He groaned, and she felt his hands on her waist. “My dear, what have I told you about footstools?”

“That a klutz like me oughtn’t tempt fate?” She tried not to blush as he helped her down off the stool, his hands warm even through her clothes.

“I would never call you a klutz. Uncoordinated, prone to accident, selectively graceful…”

She laughed, turning to throw her arms around his neck. “I love you too, Papa. Look, I’ve been hanging mistletoe! It’s thought to keep out witches and protect from poison.” Belle clung to his side, pleased that his arm stayed around her, hand on her shoulder, fingers stroking over her skin.

“Well, in my line of work, that’s always a concern. But who exactly are you expecting to kiss beneath the mistletoe? Ruby?”

“No, silly.” She chuckled, but the old familiar shame began to swim in her chest. “What’s a little Christmas kiss between us, hmmm?”

She felt his body tense; he drew away slightly. There was a long pause before he spoke, his voice a little lower than it had been before. “…Nothing, I suppose. Nothing at all.”

Belle turned, stepping in front of him. He cleared his throat as she stepped near. Slowly, so slowly that she could feel each beat of her heart, Gold lowered his head. Neither of them closed their eyes as their lips met, warm and alive. Before Belle could lose herself in the sensation, before she could taste him or imagine that they were somewhere else, someone else, he pulled away.

“Now then, what shall we have for dinner? I know there are some Brussel sprouts in the fridge, perhaps a stir-fry to get rid of them…” He walked away and Belle felt her heart sink. She forced herself to compartmentalize, to hide her pathetic little crush, to hide away the shame and the voice in her head who kept screaming _He’s your father! You depraved, twisted little whore!_ She picked up the footstool and put it away.

Belle had been feeling this way for months. She’d started craving his touch, his silky voice in her ear; she began to have fantasies of him cradling her to his chest and whispering filthy things as his fingers slipped through her folds.

For months now she’d wallowed in self-loathing, wanted to scrub these feelings from her brain, wanted desperately to want someone, _anyone_ else. But no, her sick little heart wanted Gold. She wanted her father.

And he was such a good father. As they sat eating Brussel sprout stir-fry, he gave her _the look_. “What’s wrong?” he asked, setting down his fork.

“Nothing, Papa.”

“Yes, something. You’re upset. You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“That has nothing do with my emotions,” she said, pushing a sprout across her plate.

“Belle, you know you can talk to me, yeah?”

She sighed at the concern in his voice. “Yeah, Papa. I know.”

 “Well, why don’t we watch a movie to take your mind off whatever it is that’s bothering you? You do dishes, I’ll pick the movie. I’m not letting you con me into watching another Disney film…”

Her smile was genuine as she moved to do the chore. What a good father.

Of course, the kitchen was not the only place Belle had hung mistletoe. She had hung a sprig over the couch where they sat together in the evenings. Gold had apparently not noticed, and Belle decided not to bring it up… yet. She took her usual place by his side as the opening credits rolled, snuggling into his embrace. His hand stayed on her arm through the whole thing, and though she tried to stay focused on the movie, she was warm before the end of the first hour. God, she wanted him.

When the movie finished, he yawned. “You’d better be off to bed, little one. School tomorrow.”

“Last day before break. Will you be happy to have me home?”

“The happiest. Now go,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Feeling bold, Belle sat up onto her knees but didn’t move away. She pointed up at the ceiling and cleared her throat. “I believe I’m owed a proper goodnight kiss.”

He swallowed, and Belle wondered if he was getting pale. “I suppose you are.”

She leaned over to him, stopping just shy of the contact. It was up to him; it had to be him to close the distance. And he did.

This kiss was just a fraction longer than the last, but no less fatherly. She forced a smile when he pulled away, and ran off to bed without another word.

His daughter was trying to kill him.

For some ungodly reason, Belle had decided to hang mistletoe around the house, and worse, she wanted to kiss him beneath it. He couldn’t fathom her reasoning, wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this obvious pity party, but the press of her lips against his set his soul on fire.

He wouldn’t last ‘til Christmas.

Then, during the movie, he’d felt again those old feelings of lust and desire that he’d worked so hard to quash over the last few months… He wanted to be a good father, he really did, but Belle was so beautiful and clever and good… He was a horrid pervert.

Instead of watching _The Sound of Music,_ he’d been watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath. He’d been thinking of his fingers on her skin, and how simple it would be to draw them down to her skirt and stroke up her silky thighs…

He was nearly hard by the end credits. And then, instead of just leaving, she’d kissed him again. Insisted upon it, in fact. His sweet Belle had put her lips less than an inch from his and waited, goddamn _waited_ , until he gave her the kiss she wanted. And he’d been too slow to pull away.

It was just so tempting to give in, to kiss her until she stopped it, to see if maybe his wildest dreams had come true and she wanted him… **No**. That’s incest. That’s wrong. Stop it.

He tried to force his thoughts to other women as he fisted his cock, head twisting back and forth over the pillows. He tried hard to think of other people, other scenarios, but he inevitably ended up back here. Vague female faces inevitably grew her soft pink lips, their eyes became blue and shining, their breasts became hers, and they became her, and he imagined her opening her mouth to take him in, swallow him down like a good girl…

He cursed as he came. He hadn’t had time to grab a tissue, and the stuff had coated his stomach. He growled, grabbed the Kleenex, and wiped up as best as he could.

She would be asleep by now. He had best do the same.

The following morning Belle had to rush so that they’d be ready to go at the same time. She was nearly out of breath as she met him at the coat closet, and he raised an eyebrow, questioning.

She just pointed. Hanging from the doorframe was a green stem with white berries.

Being very clever and feeling very bold, she’d put on a pair of heeled boots this morning. She was much closer to his own height now and hardly had to stretch as she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. Her hands grabbed his lapels and she held the kiss, chaste though it may be, for three whole seconds before she pulled herself away with a little pop.

She grinned as she grabbed her coat and flounced out the door, but by noon she was sick with worry- what would her father say when she returned home? Would he scold her? Rebuke her? Or worse, would he have her sent to a psychiatrist? They’d lock her up for sure. In love with her own father? How grotesquely Oedipal.

She lingered at the school even after her tutoring session had ended; not that anyone had shown up. It was winter holidays, after all. Eventually the custodians shooed her away. She had to go home.

When Belle entered the house it was eerily quiet. She heard the boil and hiss of her father cooking, but he hadn’t put on any music. Usually, if she was late, he’d put on something to keep him company, something she found quite endearing.

But tonight there was just a cough and the sound of his footsteps as he moved around the kitchen.

“Belle, could you grab me a potato from the pantry?”

She wasn’t sure what she’d anticipated, but this was **not** it. Ignoring the kiss hadn’t seemed like a real option to Belle; apparently it had to her father.

She set down her pack, kicked off her boots, removed her coat, and headed into the kitchen. He kept his back to her. Probably best – she didn’t have to pretend to smile.

She grabbed a potato from the bottom shelf and straightened, jumping as she felt a hand on her hip. How had he gotten behind her without making a sound?

“Uh oh, Dearie. Look up.”

Belle did, her head resting on his chest. “Mistletoe,” she whispered. “But I didn’t hang it here, I swear!”

“I did,” Gold said, his voice low. She thought it wavered as he spoke. “Only if you like. Or I can turn around and keep cooking, and we’ll never discuss it again.” His fingers rubbed circles on her hip through the tweed of her skirt. She bit her lip and allowed herself a moment to mull.

Hand him the potato and step away, avoid the awkward fallout, avoid the whole mess? Or do the brave thing, the thing she’d been aching for, and perhaps get exactly what she wanted?

Belle turned, slowly. Her father’s eyes watched her, nervous, as she raised her arms to wind them around his neck. She felt one of his hands move slowly over her back, the other he lifted to stroke her cheek gently with the back of his fingers. Once more time seemed to slow as Gold bent his head, Belle tipping hers back to meet him.

He brushed his lips against hers softly, a question or an invitation. Belle sighed. She caught his upper lip between her own and felt him kiss her back- a real, not at all fatherly kiss- and she tightened her arms to hold him close.

_I won’t let you go now_ , she thought. _You poor man, I’ll never let you go._

This kiss lasted infinitely longer than the previous three. Their lips parted only to reconnect again and again in delightful variation; Belle found that the way he moaned as she nipped his bottom lip was the most divine sound in the world. She would like to be kissing him every moment for the rest of her life.

Eventually he pulled away, eyes shut. Both were drawing ragged breaths.

“Papa,” she whispered, and he jolted out of her grip like a man possessed.

“Oh Belle… Oh my sweet Belle. We should not have done that. Fathers are not supposed to… I’m your _father_.”

“I know Papa, I know. I’ve been grappling with this for months,” she said, stepping closer, pushing her father back against the counter. “I love you so much… Don’t you love me too?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart. Of course I do. But this… this is _wrong_. I shouldn’t think about you the way I do…”

Belle raised her eyebrows, hope filling her heart. “You think of me? Like… Like kissing me, and, and… more?”

Gold turned red and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Belle realized how much he resembled a trapped animal. “Don’t ask me anymore, Belle, please.”

“Papa, I think of you too,” she said, wanting to wrench her heart from her chest and offer it on a silver platter. It would be less painful that way. “I want you all the time. I think of you, of your fingers, when I’m… When I touch myself. I think of you. I want _you_.”

He looked up at her finally, but said nothing. She continued, her mouth like an undammed river.

“I pretend it’s you bringing me off every night, instead of just my hand. And when we cuddle up on the couch, it’s so hard… I want to climb into your lap and kiss you senseless.”

“Belle… I can’t… This isn’t right.”

“Kissing you makes me feel whole, and if that isn’t right then I don’t know what is.”

Gold’s breath finally seemed to even, and he stood up straight. She waited as he looked her up and down. Finally he raised a hand. It wavered in the air for a moment before he touched her neck with the pads of his fingers. He trailed them down over her collarbone and across her chest before pressing his whole palm against her skin and tracing the same path back, until his hand was cupping the side of her neck.

Belle just looked up at him with those blue eyes full of wonder and anticipation.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered, dragging his thumb over her lower lip.

“Yes,” she said, running her hands over his sides. He had already taken off his jacket and waistcoat, so she could feel the warmth of his skin beneath his dress shirt. She urged him closer and he obliged, until she could feel his belt buckle pressing into her. “I want you, Papa. What do you want?”

He kissed her in lieu of an answer. Belle moaned at his passion: the force of his lips; the warmth of his tongue as he swiped it, asking for entry. His hand moved from her neck to her hair, the other grasping the back of her shirt. She clutched him close, overwhelmed. Her nose was full of his scent, her body reacting in such interesting ways to the feel of his hands and his lips. She gasped for air as he pulled away.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, and Belle wondered if he was begging.

Either way, her answer was the same. “No.” She began to unbutton his shirt, pressing her lips to his neck. He sighed and swayed forward at the touch.

“Careful, blossom. You might not like the present once you’ve unwrapped it.”

Belle chuckled, sucking at his skin. “Oh Papa… This won’t be the first time I’ve seen you shirtless. I’ve been sneaking looks.” She grinned before returning to work at that one spot, determined to leave a mark. Meanwhile her hands finished their unbuttoning and started pushing the shirt roughly down off his shoulders.

Gold sucked in a breath. Belle looked up at him and grinned, running her hands up and down his chest.

“Kiss me?”

He nodded, tipping his head to acquiesce. Belle pulled his bottom lip between hers. She thought briefly about letting her hand wander down to cup him, but every fiber in his body was tense; this situation was too delicate to ruin with haste. The longer they kissed, the more he relaxed beneath her touch.

He ended it, lowering his head to whisper against her neck. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she said, winding her arms around his shoulders. She squealed as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her onto the counter. He was immediately kissing her again, his hands pulling her shirt free from her skirt.

She moaned, sliding a hand into his hair. He undid the clasps of her blouse and parted the sides. His fingers just brushed the lace-covered cups of her bra and he groaned.

“Belle,” he whispered, and there was a question in her name.

“Yes,” she replied between kisses. “Yes, yes!”

His hands covered her breasts, massaging through the fabric. She could feel his need in his touch, his fingers wandering up over the sensitive skin of her chest. He caressed her collarbones, and Belle was surprised to find herself thinking how easy it would be for him to continue the motion upward until his hands wrapped around her throat…

He unclasped her bra. Slowly he brought his hands around, moving beneath the fabric to cup her bare breasts. He cursed against her lips as his fingers rubbed across her nipples.

Belle sighed, leaning forward into the touch. The heat of his hands was wonderful, and his touch was firm but gentle as he explored the newly bared skin. Her nipples were hardening rapidly.

“Fuck, Belle…”

“…Daddy,” she whimpered, a chill shooting through her core as she realized what she’d said. Would he spurn her?

Apparently not. He growled, hands gathering her shirt. “Please.”

She nodded, letting him guide her shirt down over her arms. She pulled off her bra as soon as she could, tossing it back to join her shirt. Gold wasted no time; his hands slid around her sides to her back as he lowered his head to kiss the newly revealed flesh of her breasts. He was a veritable symphony of moans and whimpers as he dragged his lips across her skin. He pulled a nipple into his mouth, swiping his tongue across the rosy bud.

She buried her hands in his hair. “Oh yes, Daddy,” she cried, relishing the way his fingers dug into her back.

“My girl,” he whispered, switching to her other nipple. His hand covered the breast he’d abandoned; it fit perfectly. “My sweet, gorgeous girl… I’m going to ruin you.”

“Not if I ruin you first,” she whispered, smile wide.

“Is that a promise?” He raised his head, pressing his lips to hers.

Belle cradled his face in both hands, tipping her head to pluck her lips from his reach without actually drawing away. She waited until he looked at her, their eyes connecting, their breath mingling, to speak. “Yes,” she said, nodding slightly, her nose rubbing against his. “I promise. You’re mine.”

They shared the moment, hearts singing in unison. When Gold moved, it was to push her skirt up.

Belle wriggled until they had managed to get the fabric around her waist. She fumbled to unzip it, pulling the blasted thing up over her head. By the time she had it off and could breathe again, her Papa was gone.

She looked frantically and saw him grabbing one of the stools from the other side of the counter. She looked at him quizzically as he placed it in front of her, taking a seat. She could see his cock straining against his trousers. Belle reached for it, and had just stroked the hard length with her fingertips when her Papa grabbed her wrist, lightly pulling her hand away.

“Not just yet, pet.”

She nodded, placing her hands on the counter beside her.

Gold scooted forward, nudging her legs open wide. Placing his hands on her hips he pulled her to the counter’s edge and leaned forward, nosing at her core through her panties.

Belle sucked in a breath, her thighs already beginning to quake. This sensation was so wholly new, and so totally beyond her wildest dreams, that she hardly knew how to keep herself together.

“Alright, my love? Just tell me to stop-”

“I’m fine! Better than. Don’t stop, Daddy.”

She felt his fingers tighten as he sucked in a deep breath, exhaling with a rumble. “Oh my dear one, you have no idea how heavenly you smell. And you’re wet… I could slide into you like butter.” He growled the last words, grabbing up the burgundy fabric in his teeth and pulling it away from her. He let it go with a snap.

He brought a hand up to pull the crotch of her panties to the side, pressing his lips to her labia. Belle squeaked, her hands clutching the counter. He kissed her vulva thoroughly, up and down, before dragging his tongue through her folds, eliciting a cry from his daughter.

Belle sunk one hand in his hair, clutching close to the scalp. The other hand she moved back, using it for balance. Having had no experience with cunnilingus, Belle supposed she couldn’t know for sure that Gold was doing an incredible job, but she would have bet any amount of money that he was; nor would she have preferred any other partner.

“Daddy… Oh Gods! Yes, yes… Oh!”

His tongue circled her clit before he sucked it into his mouth. She keened.

“You’re delicious, my darling,” he said, pressing his mouth to her messily. “I could just eat you up.” Messy, open-mouthed kisses with a darting, probing tongue had Belle’s body quaking.

“W-wait,” she said, and he pulled himself off with haste. She hated the feeling of cold air where he had been. “I don’t want to come without you.”

Her words were not enough to bring him back, so she reached for him, hands finding his shoulders. She managed to pull him to his feet, wrapping her arms around his bare torso, legs around his hips. She could feel his cock through both layers of fabric, her underwear and his pants.

His eyes were dark, hooded, and his silence was beginning to worry her. She kissed the corners of his mouth, his jaw. Finally he stirred, nudging her nose with his own. She kissed him into livelihood; his hands found her breasts and his thumbs swiped over her nipples.

Belle reached down to grab his zipper. He moaned but she refused to let go of his lips, hoping to distract him just a little while her hands worked the front of his pants open. He gasped when she slipped a hand into his briefs, cupping his cock.

“Sweetheart… Are you sure? We cannot come back from this.”

Continuing to stroke his length, she drew her other hand up to cup his jaw. He nuzzled her palm, his eyes falling shut.

“I don’t want to go back. Not ever. I love you, Papa, in every conceivable way.”

She tugged his briefs down to free his penis, stroking softly to bring him closer to where she needed him most. He stepped forward as his pants fell to his ankles. Moving his hands to her back, he pressed his forehead to hers.

He looked at her, whole galaxies swirling in his eyes. “I love you, my blossom. I love you with every fiber of my old, black heart.”

Belle smiled, eyes threatening to water. She pulled him in for a kiss, passionate and warm. One hand remained on his cheek, the other guided his cock to her entrance, carefully nudging her panties aside. Suddenly she was out of her depth, pulling her hand back as the blunt head of him pressed against her. Gold’s fingers tightened on her back as he pressed forward.

Both gasped, mouths moving in symmetrical shock. He was only halfway in on the first thrust, but the sensation was immediate. They were home.

For a few moments Belle panted hard, her forehead pressed to his. When Gold plucked her lip in a questioning kiss, she grinned.

“Papa…”

“I know,” he said, a faltering smile on his lips. He drew slowly out of her before pushing in again, and within a few thrusts he was able to sheathe himself completely. Belle stretched her legs, managing to lock her ankles somewhat, keeping him trapped near her body.

They kissed until the sensations of him moving inside her became too much; Belle had to part, crying out. Gold continued to kiss her jaw, her cheeks. He kissed her very eyelids.

“P---Pa---Papa!” she gasped, hand sliding from his face to his shaggy hair. “Oh Gods! D-Daddy, that feels so good!”

“Belle… My precious girl… Fuck,” he growled, after a particularly satisfying snap of his hips.

“I’m on… birth control,” she panted.

He didn’t seem to understand, dragging his lips across her cheek, cock driving in and out of her.

Belle, not wanting to waste the opportunity and unwilling to be ignored, used a hand in his hair to tip his head back. The other she brought forward to stroke his cheek. “Come inside me, Daddy.”

He growled, turning his face to nip the skin of her hand.

“I want to feel you come inside me. Please!”

“Yes,” he hissed, bending forward until he could attack the side of her neck with lips, teeth, tongue. Wrapping both arms around her middle, he switched to close, fast strokes. “I want to come inside you,” he whispered between a scrape and a suck at her throat. “I want to come inside you so badly.”

With each Scottish syllable Belle found herself getting closer and closer to the edge. She clung to him desperately. He was as close as he’d ever been in living memory, but she could not get him close enough. Everything was his scent, the feel of his hair on her cheek, on her arms, and in her hands. It was the way his cock filled her again and again. It was the delicious sound of their lovemaking reverberating around the kitchen.

“Daddy I… I… I!” she cried out as her climax started, pleasure shooting through her.

He closed the space between them, switching from thrusts to a rocking motion. “That’s it, little one. Come for me, come on my cock.” He gave a strangled cry as her muscles clamped around him, squeezing, milking. He came with a jerk.

Belle keened to feel the heat of his cum inside her, producing a second wave of pleasure. Her toes curled, her arms and legs locked up, her body quaked. Gold rocked through their orgasms, his hands stroking her back.

When they regained their breath, Belle found that she had no vigor left in her limbs. Gold slowly peeled their bodies apart, his cock sliding out of her too easily. They looked down, watching Belle drip onto the edge of the counter. She moaned; even post-coital, that was a deeply erotic sight. Belle’s hands slid down his arms where they locked about his wrists. She would not let him retreat too far.

“Hard to pull my pants up like this, blossom.”

“I don’t want you to run away.”

He blushed. “What makes you think I’d do that?”

She grinned. “I know you, Papa. You’re freaking out.”

He winced.

“Help me down?”

He stepped closer again, wrapping an arm around her back to help Belle hop to the floor. She leaned her weight on him, apologizing even as she did so.

“Sorry, Papa. How’s your knee?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. No need to apologize. Are you alright?”

“Mhmm.” Belle leaned back against the counter, her hold on him firm. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, pleased to see him sigh, nuzzling her palm. “I’m well-loved. How could I be any happier?”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Perhaps a warm bath? Or dinner,” he said with a grimace, turning towards a hissing pot still on the stove. Belle relinquished him so that he could pull up his layers, moving to turn off the stove. All the water had long ago evaporated.

“A warm bath sounds magnificent. Would you come with me?”

“I hardly think our bathtub is big enough.”

“Company, then.”

“Of course.”

They grinned at one another, Gold drawing his thumb over her lower lip. He bent his head to kiss her, and Belle sighed with contentment.

She gasped, giggling as he smacked her bottom twice. “Off with you, lamb. Go prepare your bath. I need to clean up down here.”

“Bring me a snack?”

“Oh, go on!”

She laughed, choosing to leave her scattered clothes on the kitchen floor. Gold watching her leave, eyeing her hungrily, and guiltily, all while trying to think of a carbohydrate-rich, bath-safe snack.

The was shaping up to be the most wonderful Christmas yet.


End file.
